


Together

by babbitly



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Adorable, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1666406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbitly/pseuds/babbitly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They came together without words and found that they were exactly what the other needed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> I am living in a murahimu hell right now and there is no exit in sight. these two have captured my brain and soul

He doesn’t know exactly when the gargantuan purple haired boy started walking at his side, but one day Himuro turns around and the boy from basketball practice who’d introduced himself as Murasakibara Atsushi, with tired eyes and a nasally voice is at his elbow. He’s keeping pace with Himuro, shortening his strides to stay by his side. He follows him down the hallway to lunch with a spoonful of Nerunerunerune candy hanging from his mouth, his hands wrapped around a stack of notebooks at his chest.

Himuro looks up to him and smiles. The tall man looks back to him, his long purple hair falling across his face, doesn’t return the favor, but keeps walking next to him all the way through the lunch line and back to an empty table.

Everyone stares. But between Murasakibara Atsushi being so tall and Himuro being the new transfer student, he expected nothing less.

But Himuro doesn’t let the staring bother him today.

It’s just nice to have someone to sit next to.

* * *

They’ve fallen in to a routine. They eat lunch next to each other in silence, they walk to classes together, Atsushi always finding him in the hallway, they go to practice, Himuro practices as hard as he can, Atsushi complains, and then they walk back to their dorms that are only two doors apart, never saying a word as other students stare. Yeah they exchange words in basketball practice but Himuro isn’t sure how to start a conversation with Atsushi yet. He doesn't know how well he understands him and right now their silence is comfortable, especially when the staring and whispering start up.

But today the staring is worse. Himuro’s teacher made fun of his accent again, he’s sure he was just teasing, but all the kids in the class we’re in hysterics. Himuro laughed along with them, but now he feels embarrassed being the new kid on campus, fresh from California, with the weird accent. He’s sick of people thinking of him that way. He wants them all to ignore him, to see him as one of their own.

But they still stare.

They’ve been staring for two weeks now.

And even though Himuro’s gotten used to it. It makes him uncomfortable because he knows some of them are still laughing about his teacher’s comments. It makes him shift nervously in his seat as he eats his lunch today and tries to keep his eyes down, not even looking to Murasakibara for the usual odd, silent conversations they have.

There’s a soft nudge at his side as Himuro’s chewing a bite of his sandwich.

He finally looks over to Murasakibara, whose hand is tilting a chip bag into his mouth, his eyes slanted down at Himuro. His eyes shift over to Himuro’s tray and Himuro follows his stare.

There’s a packet of Nerunerunerunecandy sitting on his tray.

He stares at the brightly colored wrapper and reaches forward to wrap his fingers around the packet.

“Thanks,” he says, softly.

“Don’t worry about them, Murochin.” Murasakibara replies, his voice distorted as he speaks in to the chip bag.

* * *

It’ s been three weeks since that day that Atsushi gave Himuro exactly what he needed, proving to Himuro that he was right in his assumption that Atsushi was just as perceptive as Himuro was. Two weeks of someone to share the, thankfully lessening, stares. Two weeks of discovering that Atsushi really doesn’t like to eat anything other than snacks. Two weeks of realizing that his huge size and look of intimidation really doesn’t fit whom this purple haired guy is.  Two weeks of realizing that he and Murasakibara Atsushi are going to be great friends.

Because Atsushi’s actually really great to be around. He’s like a giant kid most of the time, a little whiny and a bit dense, but kind and unknowingly funny. The easy pattern of friendship they’ve fallen into seems like it didn’t just begin five weeks ago, but like Himuro’s known Atsushi for his entire life.

* * *

As Himuro sees Atsushi’s and his relationship grow, the team notices too. They work better together, like they’re always in sync with what the other’s thinking. The already dominating scores other over teams reach higher gaps.  They’ve been given the titles of the double aces of Yosen, an honor Himuro is ecstatic about, and Atsushi could care less about.

Himuro knows that Atsushi is only playing basketball because he’s good at it. His huge body and speed, makes him perfect for the sport, but he also knows that there’s something more to that reasoning. He knows Atsushi loves the game. He’s seen it in those rare times that they play each other one-on-one, Atsushi always blowing Himuro away with his skill.

And even though Atsushi is his best friend and he’s happy to watch him bowl over every competitor they face, he’s jealous. He’s so incredibly jealous of his skill.

* * *

“How could you do that?” Himuro hisses as they’re walking from the Yosen locker rooms back to their dorms. Everyone else had gone on ahead, and Himuro had hoped Atsushi would do the same thing, because he’s furious at the purple haired giant. Angrier than he’s ever been before.

“Do what?” Atsushi asks back, his eyes opening slightly wider.

“Do what?” Himuro laughs out mockingly, shaking his head, “How could you just choose not to play, Atsushi?” Himuro says, his voice hard, as he plants his feet and turns towards him.

Atsushi stops and stares at Himuro. Himuro watches his eyes take in his posture, travel across his face, down his chest to his arms, and then back up, taking him in and watching.

“Murochin, Akachin told me not to play,” He says, reaching in to his pocket and grabbing a piece of candy to pop into his mouth. “I had to listen.”

A weird pang of disappointment races through Himuro’s chest at those words and then it starts burning. It sears across him and fills him up and he feels the anger seep into his words.

“Akashi isn’t on your team anymore, Atsushi,” Himuro says, glaring at him, he doesn’t even care how mad he sounds. He wants Atsushi to know what he did was wrong. Wants him to understand how important this sport is to him, how important playing with Atsushi is to him. “I am. I’m on your team. Yosen is your team, Atsushi. _Not_ Teiko.”

Atsushi takes a small step backwards, stepping towards the center of a street lamp, and Himuro can see the shock on his face. He’s never raised his voice to Atsushi, never raised it at all really, but while he sees that shocked expression on Atsushi’s face, he can’t even begin to feel sorry. He’s so mad at this talented kid, so envious of all the abilities he’s been given, all those abilities that he disregards and fails to be thankful for.

“I’m sorry, Murochin.” Atsushi mumbles, snapping Himuro out of his internal seething.

“Wh- ah-“ Himuro stutters out, staring at the tall purple haired boy, who takes two steps towards him and grabs his hand. His large hand is warm against the cool fall air. Himuro stares for a minute at their interlocked hands and the looks up to Atsushi’s face. He can see the apology there. And he feels that anger start to seep away, like smoke falling to the ground. Atsushi moves his hand a little and Himuro feels something hard pressed into his palm, before he releases his grip and straightens himself back up, looking down at Himuro

There’s a piece of shiny candy lying in his palm.

Himuro closes his eyes, wraps his fingers around the crinkly ball, and lets out a breath from his nose, expelling all those angry thoughts because he knows he can’t stay mad at Atsushi, there’s no use even trying.

“It’s okay, Atsushi.” Himuro says, looking back up to Atsushi, who’s framed by the light of the street lamp. Himuro smiles and sees Atsushi’s face relax at the forgiving words.

* * *

 “Murochin, whose ring do you wear around your neck?” Atsushi asks through a mouth full of candy a few weeks later as he’s lying across Himuro’s bed after practice.

Himuro’s hand instinctively goes up to his neck to pull on the chain, gathering the ring in his palm and pulling lightly. A pang of guilt surges through his body at the mention of his brother’s ring. That brother who now lives in the same country as him and whom he still hasn’t called yet after their weird meeting at the street ball tournament.

“Uhh.. Taiga,” Himuro says, the name thick in his mouth, “Kagami Taiga.”

“The guy with the weird eyebrows on Kurochin’s team?” Atsushi asks, his own eyebrow rising slightly, very slightly.

Himuro snorts out a laugh at his small gesture of confusion and unclenches his fist from his shirt.

“Yeah. They’ve been like that for a long time.”

“How long have you known him?” Atsushi asks, looking over his magazine.

“A long time,” Himuro says, as he rolls his chair away from his desk and props his feet up on the bed next to Atsushi’s. “We grew up together in California”

“But you guys never dated?”

Himuro feels his face heat up a little at the mention of him dating a guy, feels his heart rate jolt in shock and fear. He’d been trying so hard to conceal his sexuality while he’d been here in Japan. He knew before he moved back that Japan wasn’t as open about being gay, so he’d decided to keep that part of himself on the down low for a while. But apparently he’d been doing an awful job.

“How- how did you know I was gay, Atsushi?” He asks, clearing his throat as the words catch in his throat.

“I’m your friend, Murochin.” Atsushi says like it’s the most obvious answer in the world, his forehead scrunching slightly, his nose doing the same.

Himuro feels the panic that had momentarily filled his chest dissipate. Just like that his anxiety about that part of himself being exposed is gone and he feels a smile grow on his lips. Of course Atsushi knew. Of course Atsushi noticed. He always noticed everything about Himuro.

“Yeah, you are,” Himuro smiles back.

* * *

They train all summer together.

They’re the only ones left in their dorm building during the summer break and it’s like their rooms become joined. Himuro’s stuff is in Atsushi’s; Atsushi’s stuff is in Himuro’s, and there are candy wrappers littering the floor of both. They’re never apart, they have meals together, they practice together, they spend free time together playing video games and watching TV. Himuro thinks it’s probably one of the best summer’s he’s ever had.

And it’s on one of these summer days, after a long grueling practice out in the sun, (Himuro puked twice, Atsushi complained the entire time), as they’re walking back to their rooms that Himuro feels Atsushi’s hand slip into his own.

Atsushi’s done this before, to give Himuro candy or a share a snack, so Himuro’s not really that surprised. But this time his hand doesn't move. Himuro doesn’t feel a piece of candy press against his palm, just Atsushi’s large warm hand as he sneaks his fingers between Himuro’s and hold tight.

And Himuro likes it. He likes the feel of that hand in his. Likes the warmth even though it’s already so hot outside that he’s still sweating.

Himuro turns his head to Atsushi and smiles.

Atsushi blinks back and crunches down on the lollipop between his lips.

* * *

Their relationship moved as slowly as Atsushi does most days.

And Himuro was perfectly okay with that. He was happy.

They held hands, they hugged, and they laid in bed together and watched movies, limbs tangled together in the sheets, and Himuro’s head pressed to Atsushi’s chest. And Himuro was so incredibly happy.

They were taking things slow because Himuro wanted to wait for Atsushi. He wanted to make sure they didn’t ruin their friendship over this because he couldn’t stand to lose that. He’d rather only be a friend to him than take the risk of being in a relationship and ruining it, so they went slow.

But it had been a month.

They hadn’t kissed yet because Himuro had always stopped it. Because he knew they needed to move slow. And he hated himself for preventing it every single night.

 They’re back in Himuro’s dorm after practice when Himuro looks over at Atsushi, his hair wet from his shower after practice, his shirt off, his basketball shorts slung low across his hips, when Himuro tells himself that he either needs to kiss that boy until he can’t breath again or excuse himself from the room, that it happens.

So he crosses the room, puts one hand on Atsushi’s shoulder to drag him down a little, and presses his mouth to his. And it seems almost natural when Himuro presses his lips against Atsushi’s. Feels like the other boy’s mouth was made to fit against his own.

He presses gently at first as he pushes himself up on to his toes to meet the other boy’s mouth, Atsushi mouth finally moving to meet his rhythm. Himuro slides one of his hands up Atsushi’s hard chest, trails it over his neck, and splays his hand through the back of his scalp, letting the damp strands slide through his fingers.

Himuro feels Atsushi’s huge arms wrap around him, feels them travel up his back, one staying low, while the other slides up to his neck, and pulls their faces together tighter.

They breathe into each other as their mouths move in unison, bodies pressing closer and closer together. Himuro notices how sweet Atsushi’s lips taste and without thinking, he darts his tongue out to lick across the bottom one, that’s now a bit swollen.

“Murochin,” Atsushi says, in a low growl, the words seeping between their locked lips.

And Himuro can’t help but grin at the words and press his tongue against Atsushi’s lips that immediately open, and slide his tongue into his mouth.

Maybe Himuro wasn’t as patient as he thought.

* * *

School starts back up after a long summer of practice and this new relationship, and Himuro is a little sad not to have the dorms all to themselves anymore. They have to be more careful about where they can act like a couple, usually only in their rooms, or late at night when they leave practice after most students have gone to bed.

Atsushi’s not happy about it.

“I just want to hold Murochin’s hand.” Atsushi says in a whine, as they’re sitting next to each other in the lunchroom.

Himuro can’t help but laugh a little at his words. For being such a huge, intimidating guy, Atsushi really is just like a child sometimes, especially when it’s about something he wants; Candy, snacks, and most recently Himuro.

Himuro turns to his boyfriend and smiles, reaching in to his pocket and pulling out a Nerunerunerune candy packet that he bought at the vending machine while Atsushi was talking to a teacher. He puts it in Atsushi’s hand and makes sure to drag his fingers across Atsushi’s wrist, holding the candy in his palm way longer than necessary, but not long enough for anyone who sees their exchange to find suspicious.

“I know Atsushi, but we can’t. We can’t let people find out,” Himuro whispers, begrudgingly pulling his hand away from his boyfriends.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks, I learned to stop doing that a long time ago.” Atsushi grumbles, ripping open the candy and grabbing the little spoon that came with the package that Himuro always found hilariously small while Atsushi was holding it.

“I know,” Himuro says, turning back to his tray and stabbing a leaf of lettuce with his normal sized fork, “just wait until tonight. You can sleep in my room, okay?”

“Really?” Atsushi asks, his voice loud with excitement as Himuro sees his head turn to watch him from the corner of his eye.

Himuro bites his lip to stop the grin that forms at Atsushi’s tone as a small huff of laughter escapes from his nose, and nods his head yes.

* * *

They lose to Serin in the Winter Cup.

But that’s not the only thing they lost. Himuro’s pretty sure Atsushi lost his faith in him.

Atsushi thought he was weak. Atsushi thought he was acting repulsive. And when he said those words it hurt. When he called Taiga better than him, even though Himuro knew it was true, it fucking hurt.

And then Atsushi had the audacity to say he wasn’t going to play anymore. To sit there on the bench and declare he was finished that there wasn’t any point in trying to win because of Taiga, because Atsushi hated having to try. And a pang of fear shot through Himuro’s body as he grabbed Atsushi’s jersey by the collar, would he stop trying when it came to them too.

So Himuro hit him.

He let all the anger out that he’d been holding, the anger at Alex for mothering him so much, the anger at Taiga for always being so much better than him, that anger at Murasakibara for having all the talent in the world and not pushing himself to be the greatest, and he let out the anger he had at himself, that was consuming him by the minute.

He felt his fist connecting with the side of his boyfriend’s face and couldn’t stop the tears that sprang forth. Because he saw how much Atsushi cared about everything. Saw how much he watched and listened and paid attention to every tiny thing around him but he refused to acknowledge how much his teammates needed him. How much Himuro needed him.

But Atsushi wasn’t the only one who paid attention. Himuro knew he wanted to win this game, could see that desire seeping from his being, even if Atsushi refused to admit it.

He felt terrible punching him. He would probably always feel terrible about it but it had worked. He’d made his point. The words Atsushi had thrown back at him were harsh, but Himuro deserved them. He deserved whatever he got after that.

But they lost.

Atsushi failed. He pushed himself so damn hard, and couldn’t succeed in the end.

But Himuro wasn’t mad about not winning. He wasn’t mad at all that Taiga had finally and officially out performed him. He was too elated about Atsushi. He was just glad he got to see Atsushi playing like that. In the zone, reaching his full potential, doing things Himuro only dreamed of.

So when he said he was quitting, Himuro knew the words that fell from his lips were lies.

“It doesn’t seem that way to me.” He responded, smiling at Atsushi’s towel covered head.

He knew he probably shouldn’t be smiling at someone who was in tears but he couldn’t stop himself. He saw everything Atsushi could be in those last minutes, saw his fears about Atsushi in a relationship vanish before his eyes, saw the potential he knew Atsushi had come out and flourish.

And he loved that.

He couldn’t be that sad about losing when he won so much more.

* * *

 “Murochin c’mon, practice with me.” Atsushi whines, reaching down to the bed to grab Himuro’s hand and pull.

“I thought you were done with basketball,” Himuro teases, smiling at his boyfriend who’s trying, and succeeding, to pull him off the bed.

“Murochin.” Atsushi growls, with a small smirk of a smile.

“Change your mind?” He asks, full on grinning now.

“Just play with me, Murochin.

Atsushi had forgiven him about the punch almost immediately. It had taken Himuro a little longer to forgive himself though. He was still working on it, but every time he looked up to Atsushi’s face he saw that purple bruise, high on his right cheek, that faded achingly slow, torturing Himuro in every way as it changed colors on his skin.

But as the bruise changed colors, something in Atsushi changed as well. He craved basketball now, where it used to be an inconvenience. After they watched the winter cup games they would practice, whenever they had free time, that wasn’t occupied by more entertaining things between the two of them, they were on a court.

Himuro saw that drive that had been there during the final quarter of their last game for the season in his eyes, and he hoped it never left.

Himuro sits up from the bed and grabs Atsushi’s hand to pull him closer. He pulls his arm down and Atsushi follows, bending over to put his face within reaching distance, knowing what Himuro wants. Himuro presses his lips against Atsushi’s, latching his hand into his hair purple hair, and rubbing his thumb against the spot that no longer contains a bruise on his cheek.

Their kisses are always sweet. Himuro’s not sure if that’s because Atsushi tastes like candy or what but Himuro can’t get enough of them. He deepens the kiss, tangling their tongues together in Atsushi’s mouth, and then pulls back to breathe, leaning his forehead against Atsushi’s. Atsushi moves his head forward and presses one last kiss against Himuro’s mouth.

“I love you,” Himuro says, letting those newly formed words that he’d known for so long spill from his mouth, his lips moving against Atsushi’s.

“I love you too, Murochin.” Atsushi says, straightening himself up and grabbing Himuro’s hand. “Now let’s go.”

Himuro smiles and stands up, holding on to Atsushi’s hand in his own as he walks through his candy wrapper littered dorm room and through the door to the hallway.

They hold hands all the way to the court.

 


End file.
